


Pretty Boy

by sweetlykhal



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adorable Dipper Pines, Dipper isn't afraid to wear makeup and feminine fashion, F/F, Fashion Designer Mabel Pines, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Mabel roped her twin into this because that's just how she works, Model Bill Cipher, Model Dipper Pines, This is so self-indulgent it's not even funny, We don't know her, and Bill thinks it's adorable and funny, gender roles who, honestly he's just a cute mess of a boy, i just really like the idea of pretty boy Dipper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-24 02:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20350624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlykhal/pseuds/sweetlykhal
Summary: Dipper Pines, for as long as he can remember, has been labeled as a pretty boy. When his sister begins to designing fashion, it only makes sense that he would model her work.Bill Cipher is well known in the fashion industry for his smooth charm and golden looks. He's also known for breaking hearts without care.The two meet on a shoot where sparks can't help but fly, and Dipper finds himself dragged into a world of money, lies, and beautiful people.It's all he can do to not drown in the suffocating industry and a pair of golden eyes.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Dipper Pines, model and anxious mess, more commonly known to the public as Mason Pines. His normal day filled with vanilla coffee and makeup is shattered by the entrance of a mysteriously stunning model.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dipper Pines, model and anxious mess, more commonly known to the public as Mason Pines. His normal day filled with vanilla coffee and makeup is shattered by the entrance of a mysteriously stunning model.

“Pretty boy.”

Dipper Pines has heard these two words used to describe him since birth, sometimes positive, other times not so much.

The words have now been spoken in hushed reverence by the barista behind the counter.

Dipper flicks his eyes upwards, briefly looking up from his book as he waits to be served. “Excuse me?”

The boy blushes, hands fumbling with the register as he squeaks out a reply. “Nothing! I asked if you were ready?”

Dipper chuckles lightly, rubbing the back of his neck as he turns his gaze to the drink menu above him. “I’ll take a Vanilla Latte, please.”

The teen doesn’t look up as he punches in the order. “What size do you want?”

Dipper almost curses. The weird French names the coffee shop uses for sizes always confuse him.

“Whatever a small is, please.”

He just barely registers the offered ‘petite’ as he slaps a twenty on the counter. “Keep the change.”

Dipper flashes the boy a smile as he darts away, more than happy to wait for his coffee away from the threat of additional conversation.

He fishes his phone out of his back pocket when he feels it vibrate, quickly opening the new message from his sister.

Alpha Twin:  _ You almost here? _

_ Yeah, just picking up a coffee first, want anything? _

Dipper hopes against everything that she doesn’t say yes, because the looks the barista keeps sending him are making him nervous.

His phone buzzes again, distracting him.

Alpha Twin:  _ Nah, I made Mabel juice this morning! I’ll be good to go alllll day. _

Dipper smiles at his phone, shaking his head.

_ That stuff is lethal. I don’t trust it. _

Alpha twin:  _ Hey, it works, don’t knock my magic. _

“M-Mason Pines?”

Dipper’s head snaps up at the sound of his name, cheeks heating as he quickly looks around the room. No one reacts to the name, thankfully. He strides up the counter, grabbing his latte while flashing the warmest smile he can manage.

“Thanks. Have a good day.”

The boy mumbles something unintelligible as Dipper walks away. He types up a message to Mabel as he climbs into the car waiting outside.

_ On my way. You won’t believe the awkward encounter I had with the coffee boy _

“Ready to go, sir?”

Dipper smiles at the driver, nodding.

Alpha Twin:  _ Oh?(; When’s the date? _

_ Oh my god, Mabel, wrong kind of awkward _

Alpha Twin:  _ Boo! It’ll happen eventually, mark my words! _

Dipper smiles at his sister’s antics, locking his phone as he sips his drink. The sweet vanilla floods his senses as he runs through the day’s itinerary. Photo shoot days are always the longest, and he’s not particularly looking forward to it.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when the car rolls to a stop. He thanks the driver as he steps out, heading into the building.

A crew member points him in the direction of his sister, down the hall on the left. 

He finds the room easily, peeking his head around the doorframe to peer inside. Mabel stands near the back of the room, the center of attention. The familiar sight has a warm fuzziness blossoming in his chest. 

Her brown eyes manage to find his own even through all the chaos, and she clears the large room in seconds to tackle him.

“Dipper! Morning, bro! It’s a wonderful day, let’s get started immediately!”

Dipper doesn’t bother responding, just lets his hyperactive twin drag him to the makeup station while he waves to the crew they pass. Each one chuckles at the woman’s actions, not surprised in the least.

Mabel spins him around and shoves him into the plush faux leather chair as she starts briefing the makeup artist at top speed. Something about warm undertones, blush, and dewy skin. Dipper pulls his book back out as he finishes his coffee, barely blinking when Rae starts applying foundation.

Dipper is finishing up the latest chapter when Rae signals that she’s done. He almost whines, “Dang it! What a cliffhanger to end on.”

The girl tucks her black hair behind her ear as she smiles coyly. “Sorry Mason, but if I let you continue reading, Mabel will have my head.”

Dipper snorts, closing his book. “You’re not wrong.”

He languidly stretches his arms above his head as he finally looks in the mirror. The makeup is much lighter than usual, and much more subdued. He’d describe it as ‘spring goddess’ if he had to. Peachy, glowy, and delicate.

“It’s beautiful, nice job, Rae.”

She stares up at him, dwarfed now that he’s standing, and shrugs with a small smile. “Just doing my job, kid. Now, off to hair and wardrobe with you.”

She places her tiny hands against his back and pushes until he begins walking, laughing.

“Alright, alright, I’m going. Thanks again!”

Dipper breezes through hair styling like always. His signature curls are only accentuated, falling around his face in shiny waves. The golden circlet placed in his hair pushes his bangs away from his forehead, leaving his birthmark exposed. He curses Rae and Mabel when he notices that it’s been accentuated with a metallic gold paint.

Wardrobe is a hurricane of flowing white fabric, peach and pink flowers, and more gold than he can fathom.

He waltzes into the main room in a dizzy haze, smelling strongly of vanilla as Mabel squeals.

“Look at you! Mabel Pines, you have outdone yourself this time.”

Mabel pats herself on the back, and the twins laugh.

Dipper lifts a layer of white chiffon, letting it fall in a flutter. “It’s stunning, Mabs. What was your inspiration?”

Mabel leads him over to the set as she blushes, leaning towards him to whisper. “Lets just say Pacifica and I had a very, ahem, lovely trip where I was inspired.”

Dipper raises an eyebrow, “I do not want to know what that means.”

Mabel grins, winking. “It means she’s my muse!”

Dipper smirks and places his hands on his hip. “I thought I was your muse?”

Mabel waves her hand in the air, “Same difference! To your place, peasant!”

Dipper rolls his eyes, taking in the soft nature set-up. Lights have been set up to filter through the room like dappled sunlight, and the corner of the warehouse has been transformed into a flower-filled meadow of wispy tallgrass. He settles into the grass at the center, taking a moment to meditate to get ready for the shoot.

“Mason Pines?”

Dipper's eyes flutter open at the deep voice, thoroughly startled. He looks up at the blonde standing before him, only able to nod in his shock.

The man chuckles, a vibrating noise that sounds like spiced honey and sends a shiver up Dipper's spine.

“Wow, you really are a pretty boy.”

Dipper tries to hide the blush rising on his cheeks. “Um, thanks? Can I help you?”

“Oh Dipper!” Mabel's voice cuts through his question. “I forgot to tell you! This is your modeling partner for this shoot!”

Dipper stares at her for a stupidly long time. “Modeling partner?”

“Yeah, silly! This tall drink of water is Bill, and he's going to be your partner for this shoot. You two make nice while we adjust the cameras, okay?”

Dipper watches his sister leave, mouth open in shock. He blinks up at Bill owlishly, “Oh. Well, hello then.”

Bill smirks like he'd like to eat Dipper whole, squatting to level their gaze. “Hello to you too, doll.”

Dipper clears his throat, fiddling with the hem of one of the layers of his outfit. He continues to stare at Bill, and damn him, why isn't he speaking? The silence drags out and Dipper curses his horrible social skills.

Dipper averts his gaze, thoroughly embarrassed. How in the world is he supposed to work with this man? He's extremely attractive and puts Dipper on edge.

Bill settles into the grass beside him, leaning back on his hands, and from the corner of his eyes Dipper swears he's checking him out.

“So-” The brunette starts.

Bill's smirk is obvious in his peripheral. “So.”

“You model?”

The blonde chuckles lowly. “Yes.”

Dipper winds a blade of fake grass around his finger. “Cool. Me too.”

Bill snorts. “I know, cutie.”

Dipper hangs his head as he blushes. What had prompted him to say that? Bill probably thought he was the biggest idiot ever.

“Hey sweetheart, breathe, it's okay. Is this your first time shooting with someone else?”

Dipper blinks, startled, and briefly glances at Bill. “Yeah, is it that obvious?”

Bill smiles, something slightly warmer than the chilling smirk that was previously etched into his lips. He shrugs nonchalantly “A bit, yeah, but it's okay. Everyone's first time shooting with another model is nerve racking. You can't guarantee chemistry, and that sort of thing is hard to fake in a shoot.”

Dipper tilts his head, shuffling a bit to face Bill. “You need chemistry to shoot with someone else?”

Bill laughs, but his eyes show no malice. “With a romance shoot? Definitely.”

Suddenly Dipper is choking, “Romance? Hold on, what is this shoot?”

Bill looks down as he tries to hold back a smile. “Oh, angel, Mabel really did you dirty.”

As if summoned, Mabel bounces into view. “How are my two favourite men doing? Hitting it off nicely, I hope?”

Dipper stands, rushing over to his sister as he holds his arms across his stomach. He pulls her to the side, away from prying eyes. “Mabel! How could you do this to me?”

She blinks at him, smile bright and cheerful. “What are you talking about, bro-bro?”

Dipper's eyes dart towards the tall blonde splayed out in the grass, long legs cutting through the flowers like a river of black denim. He's momentarily distracted by the sight, taking in the chains and studs, eyes catching on the rips in the fabric that reveal tan skin. 

He pulls his eyes back to his twin, spluttering. “Him! You never warned me about a modeling partner! Or a-” He rolls his hand around, grasping for words. “Romantic shoot!”

Mabel's smile turns into a pleading pout. “I knew you would say no, and I really need this shoot to be perfect! Please, Dipper?”

Dipper tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, then sighs. “Fine. But this is going to be a mess.”

Mabel squeals and starts bouncing in place before pulling him in for a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Don't worry about it, it'll be perfect!”

She doesn't waste a moment, tugging him back over to the faux field. She makes shooing motions with her hands, and Dipper makes his way over to Bill with a sigh.

Nerves have started to coil in his stomach, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. He can do this, this is what he does. He's not going to let one handsome man ruin his chances of his dream.

Bill looks up as Dipper stops before him, head cocked to the side as he pins him in place with golden eyes.

“Ready to be my goddess?”

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is such a self-indulgent piece of writing, and I'm not sorry in the least bit
> 
> I am so weak for the idea of pretty boy Dipper paired with human Bill, someone stop me
> 
> If you read this and humour me, bless you♡


	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Dipper work the shoot together, a perfectly matched pair. After, Bill offers Dipper something the younger can hardly understand

Dipper settles into the floor of the set with as much grace as he can manage in his embarrassed state. 

There’s no way Bill doesn't know what he’s doing, what with the grin stretching his lips across his glinting teeth. Like a tiger playing with its next meal.

Dipper exhales softly when his back is pulled flush to Bill’s warm chest, arms flailing as he falls back.

“Excuse me! What are you doing?”

Dipper tries to twist in Bill's arms to face the blonde, huffing when the vice-like grip stays firm.

“Calming you down, sugar, you’re wound up too tight.”

Bill’s fingers are in his hair then, curling into the soft locks at the base of Dipper’s neck so as not to mess up the style. Dipper practically melts at the touch, much to his dismay, letting out an undignified sigh.

“Oh, that feels nice.”

Bill hums, tracing his fingers down the curve of his neck. “Of course it does, cutie. Just relax and forget that you’re here for a moment.”

Dipper crosses his arms across his chest, slightly mortified, but closes his eyes as he leans into Bill’s caresses. The buzz of the crew around them dulls to a hum, world narrowing down to a pair of warm arms around his waist and deft fingers in his hair.

The moment of peace is broken, not unusually, by Mabel’s loud squeal. “Oh, you two are just the cutest! Are you ready? Because I’m ready! Places everyone!”

Dipper wiggles out of Bill’s embrace with flushed cheeks, trying to ignore the way Mabel waggles her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’m ready. What’s the objective for the shoot?”

Mabel steps behind the camera, whispering to the photographer before addressing him. “I’m going for a modern twist on Hades and Persephone. You’re a huge Greek mythology nerd, so I trust you can tap into what I’m looking for!”

Dipper’s mind settles into its usual haze brought about by modeling. With an idea in place, he can focus and ignore anything else. The element of mythology adds an additional factor of distraction. 

Comfort drapes over him like a blanket, and his muscles loosen for the first time that morning. His lips lift up gently at the corners.

Mabel watches the shift in his demeanor, eyes flicking to Bill to see if the blonde has noticed. Judging by the confusion etched into his features, he has.

“Is that normal?”

Mabel smiles proudly, “Yup. He’s a natural when the camera turns on.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, instead turning to her twin. “Okay Dip-dop, I’m going to do a few test shots with just you to make sure we have the right tone before bringing in Bill, okay?”

Dipper barely nods, relaxing into the flowers like he’s one of them. His eyes meet the camera, lidded and doe-like, lips set in a playful pout. The camera captures each subtle shift with a sharp ‘click’.

Mabel waves her hand at the photographer, signaling them to stop. She claps her hands and beams at her brother. “Perfect, Dipper! I don’t need to see anything else. Bill, get your fine ass in there and make me proud!”

The blonde steps into the field, shortening the distance between the two models quickly. Dipper leans his head back, gazing up at him warmly. He reaches a hand up, and Bill takes it, sitting down behind him. 

Dipper shifts, pulling his legs to the side, chiffon pulling up to expose milky smooth skin as Bill arranges his own legs around him. 

The two create a brilliant contrast, all golden metal and pale velvet. As much as they juxtapose each other in image, they blend in character. Each movement is fluid and in-tune, as if they’ve worked together for years.

Everyone watching is pulled in by the dynamic, witnessing the blossom of something truly special. 

Bill is a barely tamed hurricane, with coal-smudged eyes burning like embers, teeth glinting in a feral smile. He looks every bit the part of the king of the dead claiming a goddess.

Dipper is a spring shower, dewy eyes and mischievous fingers lingering on tan skin. A deity more than ready to topple the world in order to take what they want. 

They become immortal lovers for a short time, ancient soulmates.

The camera shutter goes off a final time, truly unwilling to stop capturing the pair, but Mabel steps forward.

Her voice is barely a whisper, “Alright, I think that’s a wrap?”

Dipper’s eyes cut over to her, shifting away from Bill. “Already?”

Mabel is staring at the screen of recorded photos, eyes wide as a smile threatens to break. “I have all I need, these are perfect. Seriously, bro, what the heck?”

Dipper’s confidence washes away with the realisation that his job is over for the day, and his shoulders hunch up, curling around himself. “Okay, cool. What now? We don’t ever finish this early.”

Mabel waves her hand, eyes glued to the screen as she whispers excitedly with the photographer. Dipper takes that as his cue to leave, standing on wobbly legs to head back to the dressing room. 

He hardly takes a step before a hand is grabbing his wrist. He turns back to Bill, eyebrow raised.

The blonde has an unreadable emotion playing across his features. “There’s a party on Saturday at Tad Strange’s. Nearly every big shot model, photographer, and agent will be there. You’ve kept a really low profile up until now, but I think that’s a waste of your talents. Come with me.”

Dipper stares at Bill’s hand, the long digits looping around his small wrist, shuddering when he brushes his thumb across the soft inside. His eyebrows must be pulling together in confusion as he lifts his gaze, because he doesn’t fully understand what Bill’s saying. He thinks he has enough potential to be near Tad Strange?

The thought is so amusing that Dipper giggles. He slaps a hand over his mouth immediately. “I’m sorry! I’m not laughing at you, I just.” He cuts off, shaking his head. “I don’t understand?”

Bill pulls his hand back, dragging it through his hair. The movement shows off his shaved sides and the subtle wave in the near-platinum locks. “Listen cutie, you’re more talented than you realise, trust me. I’ve been in this business for a few years now and I’ve never met or worked with anyone like you.” His golden eyes rake over the smaller boy. “You really come alive in front of the camera.”

Dipper shuffles his feet, hating how the chill of the floor seeps into them now that he’s out from under the heat of the studio lights. “You must not meet many models, then.”

His joke falls flat, but Bill laughs nonetheless. “Oh, you are too cute. I could just eat you up.”

Bill doesn’t bother arguing with him, simply pulls a pen from his back pocket. He tugs Dipper’s hand towards him, scrawling his number on his arm in long, rounded numbers.

Bill unclicks the pen and smirks at him, already strolling away. “Text me, angel.”

The blonde leaves behind the smell of spice and musk, a scent that is both tantalising and dangerous.

“What was that?”

Dipper startles with a small noise as he whirls around, lightly slapping his sister’s shoulder. “Don’t do that!”

She ignores him, yanking his arm towards her with a squeal, yet again. “Dipper Pines! You dog!”

He pulls his arm back as his cheeks turn red. “I didn’t do anything! He just gave me his number for no reason.”

Mabel squints at him, “For no reason? I smell lies. When’s the date?”

Dipper scowls playfully at her. “Will you let that go, there is no date. He invited me to a party. And don’t you dare say anything! It would be for networking.”

“Oh, I bet he wants to network you.” Mabel winks to punctuate her sentence.

“What does that even mean, Mabel?”

“You’ll find out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time Bill calls Dipper a pet name a part of my soul leaves my body. I think this story is about to consume my life, and I can't even find it in myself to be upset about it(,:


	3. III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dipper is curious, and wants to find out more about Bill. A cliche coffee date ensues.

Dipper stares at his open laptop, fingers hovering over the keys as he watches the cursor blink in the new tab. They twitch in the air as he chews on his lip, hesitating. It’s just innocent research right? Lots of people do it, he’s sure.

He scoffs to himself. ‘Yeah right, but those people don’t work with him.’

He throws his head back, staring up at his slanted ceiling before returning to the computer screen. His fingers are moving before his mind can process it, and then the screen is loading, pulling up results for ‘Bill Cipher’.

Dipper moves his cursor to the image section quickly, hoping that if he does it quickly enough he won’t feel as much shame. Doubtful, seeing as he’s already chewing at his fingernails. Mabel is going to kill him for that.

They fill the page quickly, contrasting with the white screen, gunmetal and ash cut through by gilded eyes. 

Dipper scrolls through the results slowly, leaning towards the screen as he admires the other model’s work. It’s intoxicating- how easily Bill’s eyes pull him in through simple photos.

He takes note of how monochrome everything is, how none of the photos show any sort of smile beyond a smirk. It’s almost infuriating how little emotion the blonde shows. 

Dipper clicks out of the page in a huff, switching to the main search page, intent to scour the internet until it tells him something about the elusive man.

An hour passes in a blur, and Dipper throws himself back into his sofa with a huff, pouting at the laptop as he shoves it away with his foot.

“Stupid Bill.”

An idea flashes through his mind when he crosses his arms against his chest. The ink stands out starkly against his pale peach skin, like a warning sign. 

Screw this, he’s getting answers.

He rises from his comfy spot, padding across the marble floor to find his phone.

He passes through the kitchen, swiping it off the counter as he heads to his bedroom, unlocking it along the way.

The contacts icon blinks up at him, and he slowly puts each digit in, checking his arm twice before opening the message app.

He stares at the blank space for a moment before typing out a quick text.

_ It’s difficult to find information on you, you know. _

Dipper hits send with a nervous exhale, tossing his phone on the counter. He chews at his lip, arm crossing his ribs to hold in his anxiety. 

He turns, heading back into the living room, until a loud buzz stops him. He looks back at the counter, where the screen has lit up.

He walks back over, eyes scanning the new text message.

Bill:  _ I’d almost be worried if I hadn’t just given my number to a cutie earlier today. _

Dipper flushes, embarrassed and a little flattered.

_ Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I forgot to say that this is Dipper _

He groans, nearly smacking himself in the head. There’s no way that first message didn’t sound creepy.

He’s pulled out of his self-criticism by his phone vibrating in his palm.

Bill:  _ Don’t worry about it, sugar, I knew it was you. I’m more curious as to why you’re looking me up(; _

Dipper pulls the back of his hand up to his cheek. Yup, flaming hot.

_ Oh, uh, I was just looking you up since we modeled together. That’s normal, right? _

The three little dots pop up immediately, much to his horror and delight. How does Bill have the free time? Dipper looks up from his phone and scoffs at himself. He’s doing the same thing, so it’s not like he can judge.

Bill:  _ Sure, doll, whatever you need to tell yourself _

Dipper rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

_ So you’re not going to let me in on your secrets? _

Bill:  _ If I’m going to be divulging my life story, at least let me take you out for coffee, cutie _

Dipper presses his face against the cool granit of the counter to breath for a second, debating. What could the harm be? He loves coffee.

_ I think we could arrange a deal _

Bill:  _ Perfect. Send me your address and I’ll leave after this meeting _

Dipper complys, but asks if he’s interrupting, because worrying is second nature to him.

Twenty minute pass without a reply, and Dipper is sure that he definitely was interrupting, when a knock rings through his loft.

He makes his way to the door slowly, pulling it open slightly to peer outside.

Bill stands outside the white door, dwarfing the frame. He pushes his hair back and smirks.

“Hey, cutie, ready to go grab some coffee?”

Suddenly Dipper’s stomach is in total knots. Why did he agree to this?

“Uh, yeah, sure, let me just grab some shoes.” He shuffles in the doorway for a second before pulling the door open all the way. “Um, you can wait inside if you’d like.”

Bill steps inside nimbly, letting the door fall shut behind him as he surveys the room. 

“Nice place.”

Dipper hums in agreement, ducking into his bedroom to grab a pair of white lace-ups. He stops by the mirror on the way out, frowning at his grey shirt. It doesn’t exactly scream fashionable, or even cute, so he quickly chucks it off.

He begins rooting around in his closet as he hears Bill’s boots walking through the hallway, most likely looking at the odd art hung on his walls. Everyone always stares.

Dipper pulls out a soft cream shirt, adorned with transparent yellow stars, and whirls around when he hears the low whistle.

Bill stands at the doorway to his bedroom, eyes raking up and down his bare chest before landing on the painting above his bed.

“Stunning.”

Dipper yanks his shirt on in record time, eyes darting to the painting. It’s a bit macabre, but he certainly thinks it’s beautiful.

“You really think so? It’s one of my favourites.”

Bill chuckles lowly, “Mhm, me too.”

Dipper tilts his head at him, eyes squinting. “Is that sarcasm?”

“No, sugar, I’m being sincere.” 

Dipper merely nods in reply, clearing his throat when Bill continues to admire the painting.

“Should we head out, then?”

Bill turns to him, eyes narrowed in humour. “I suppose we should.”

…

Bill lounges in the chair more than he sits, and the way the front legs never touch the ground makes Dipper more nervous than he’d like to admit.

He clutches his vanilla latte like a lifeline, a warm cup of sweet courage. Compared to Bill’s onyx-black coffee, Dipper’s is like a child’s drink.

Dipper takes a sip to settle his nerves. “So. Bill Cipher, the enigma.”

Bill’s chair hits the ground with a soft ‘thump’ as he leans forward, mirroring the smaller male by sipping his coffee. “Mason Pines, the angel.”

Dipper tries to find something to say, but ends up waving his hand at Bill before looking around the shop. “Oh hush. You know you don’t have to call me Mason, right?”

Bill lifts a shoulder before letting it drop. “I like it. Until I find a suitable nickname, Mason works. How’d you’d get that nickname anyways?”

Dipper groans in an exaggerated manner, but laughs. “I knew that would come up eventually.”

He waste no time in shoving his curls out of his face, exposing the smooth skin of his forehead. Bill leans forward even more, eyes tracing the soft outline of the Ursa Major on his forehead.

The soft ‘oh’ that spills from his lips isn’t the response Dipper was expecting, and he lets his bangs fall back over the birthmark.

“I thought it was makeup yesterday.”

Dipper doesn’t lift his head, suddenly fascinated with counting each speck on the table as he hums noncommittally.

“Mason?”

Dipper’s head snaps up at the tone in Bill’s voice. A hesitant sort of worry.

“Yes?”

“Did I upset you?”

Dipper laughs, though he doesn’t find humour in the situation, and shrugs. “No, you’re fine. I’m not particularly fond of it. It’s just one of the things I was teased about in school.”

Bill arches an eyebrow, face carefully collected into a cool mask. “You were teased for things? Why?”

Dipper notes briefly the irony of the situation. Here he had wanted to learn more about Bill, and so far, the blonde has managed to pull more out of him.

“Well, lots of things, but it’s not like it really mattered. My height, my weight, my birthmark, my sexuality, my looks.” Dipper waves a hand in the air, trying to brush the words aside.

Bill’s calm mask flickers, annoyance swirling in the depths of his eyes like a riptide. “Seriously? All of those are things you were born with, not to mention that there’s nothing wrong with any of them.” Bill’s lip curls, and Dipper is more than relieved that the anger isn’t directed towards him. “Jokes on them, because now everyone can see how stunning and talented you are.”

The force of his words brings heat to Dipper’s cheeks, both from the honesty in them and the playful flirting the end of the statement holds.

“Thank you.”

The whispered words don’t really express how grateful he is, but Bill sends him a small smile that shows he hears the unspoken message.

Dipper downs a third of his remaining coffee in one go, bouncing his leg to get rid of some of his pent-up energy. “Well, enough about me. I didn’t text you vaguely in a creepy manner to spill my life story. I want to hear about the great Bill Cipher.”

Dipper smiles at Bill to let him know he’s teasing him, and the blonde smirks at him in response.

“Glad to hear you think I’m great, doll.”

The model takes a slow sip of his coffee, staring out the window as he does so. While he collects his thoughts, Dipper finds it hard not to admire his profile. The midday sun hangs high in the sky, splashing bright golden light across his already tan face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and shadowing his jaw.

The contrasting light across his face fits well with the contrasting personality Bill possesses. The rugged, silver-tongued devil is who he wants to be seen as, but there are times when a warm, almost gentle persona slips out.

The shift in character always leaves Dipper reeling, like the breathlessness he feels after a particularly thrilling roller coaster. Funny enough, looking at him has the same effect.

Bill turns his face back to look at Dipper, golden eyes softer than usual. “Can I trust you not to immediately run to the press with my tragic backstory?”

Dipper startles, before giggling. “Can I trust you not to go to them with my own?”

Bill’s guarded expression melts away as he laughs. “You got me there, sugar. It’s a deal, then. I’ll keep your secrets and you keep mine.”

Dipper presses his fingers to his mouth to quiet the giggles bubbling up as he smiles at Bill. “Deal.”

Bill tilts his chair back, smile playing at his lips as his gaze shifts back out the window. “Do you know where I’m from?”

Dipper fiddles with his fingers, thinking back to his small research session hours before. “Um, some small town in Oregon, right?”

Something wistful swirls in Bill’s eyes as he nods. “Gravity Falls. Do you know where my family is from?”

Dipper blinks at him with wide eyes, confused. “Oregon?”

Bill, to his credit, doesn’t outright laugh at him. “My mom, yes. My dad was from Egypt.”

Dipper’s mouth opens in a small ‘o’. His eyes flit over Bill’s face, taking in the naturally dark complexion, high cheekbones, and dark eyebrows. The light gold of his eyes and the dyed platinum hair threw him off initially, but he can see it now that Bill has pointed it out. 

“I can see it. Los Angeles’ own pharaoh.”

Bill snorts, “You’re adorable, Mason Pines.”

Dipper’s cheeks are surely dusted pink, but perhaps Bill will ignore it if he does. “What was your dad like?”

Bill rolls his head back, humming in thought. The movement bares his throat, exposing the dark bronze, and Dipper quickly looks away.

“I don’t have many personal memories of him. He vanished when I was seven. Went to work one morning like usual, and didn’t return. My mom was frantic when he wouldn’t answer his phone at dinner time, and by the next night she was practically beating down the doors to the police station.” His eyes meet Dippers, but they’re clearly miles away. “They found his car abandoned by a nearby railroad. All his personal stuff was still in the passenger seat, and they couldn’t find any evidence to further the investigation. So at thirty-two my mother became a technical widow.”

Dipper sucks in a breath as Bill pauses, reaching across the table to take his hand. Bill stares at their interwoven fingers with an odd expression, but doesn’t comment on it.

“She was a wreck for a long time. Not having the closure, living with that perpetual ‘what if’ ate at her. She didn’t turn to drugs or alcohol, but she didn’t turn to friends or family either. She just.” Bill struggles to find the words he wants, shaking his head. “She just shut down. He was the love of her life. You could see it in the way she lit up whenever anyone said his name, or the way she always had to touch him. Fingers brushing his shoulder when she passed him in the living room, holding his hand in the car, placing soft kisses to his cheek any time she thought about it. And then he was gone, and a piece of her went with him.”

Dipper can feel tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill over as Bill speaks. He can only imagine the pain of losing someone so dear to him, or the pain of losing one parent and watching another slip away.

Bill grins wryly, “Don’t you fret for young Bill, though! He was resourceful, and had many kind townsfolk to help him grow into the horribly wonderful person you see today.”

Dipper smiles at him through watery eyes, rubbing the heel of his hand across his eyes. “Is your mom okay?”

Bill watches him carefully, “Mhm, don’t you worry about her, sugar. It took a while, but she came back to me.”

Dipper looks down at his hand, glistening with unshed tears, and then to his other still in Bill’s grasp. He begins to gently unweave his fingers, and Bill lets him, still watching him with that careful gaze.

“Are you wearing makeup?”

Dipper blinks rapidly at the sudden question, lips parting in surprise. “Excuse me?”

Bill narrows his eyes and leans forward, halfway over the table before he stops. “There’s no way those are your natural lashes, and your skin is too perfect to be human.” He holds his hands up. “Not judging by the way, just too curious for my own good.”

Dipper can only blink in shock as his eyebrows furrow. Bill thinks he’s wearing makeup right now, seriously? 

Bill reaches a hand to his cheek, and Dipper squeaks lightly when he drags his rough thumb down his face. Bill pulls his finger away to inspect it, looking mildly surprised, if a bit miffed when it yields no results.

He shakes his head, smirking harder than ever. “Pretty boy.”

Dipper flushes red, which is stupid considering how many people have said those exact words to him. They roll off of Bill’s tongue differently. 

They continue exchanging stories after the awkward air passes, but the entire time Dipper is distracted by Bill. The way he says his name, the way he uses his hands when he speaks, the way he smiles softly when recalling fond memories. Mostly, he focuses on the way Bill makes him feel. How there aren’t enough metaphors to describe the odd feeling blooming in his stomach.

It’s after Bill drops him off at his loft that the realisation hits Dipper.

He’s crushing on Bill Cipher, and that surely means a world of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was embarrassingly long. On a side note, I've been back and forth with myself trying to figure out if I want to add angst to this story or not (in addition to what I have planned). I know there will be mass amounts of fluff at some point, but the fact remains that I don't know when it'll come in full force. I suppose we'll see if I plan on ripping my own heart out or not!
> 
> I'd like to take a moment to thank [ravenclue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclue/pseuds/ravenclue) and [TerroiArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerroiArt/pseuds/TerroiArt) for being such angels and always hopping on here to comment. It warms my heart(,:
> 
> They both do fantastic art on insta and twitter with the same handles, so if the terms 'e-thot Bill' or 'man tiddie Bill' peak your interest, then you're in for a lovely surprise!


	4. IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mabel recruits Bill to help Dipper learn more about the industry before the party.  
We interrupt your regularly scheduled pre-chapter summary to declare that [TerroiArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerroiArt/pseuds/TerroiArt) is an artistic god, and an entire sweetheart on top of that! He drew pretty boy! Dipper and I may have shed a few tears, but that's not the point(,:  
Beautiful art [here♡ ](https://www.instagram.com/p/B1rlonAIKW4/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)

Dipper is woken on Saturday at an ungodly hour when his phone decides to have a fit. Or, more accurately, Mabel is having a fit via text message, and is taking it out on his phone.

He rolls over in his sheets with a groan, blindly groping around on his nightstand for a moment before grabbing the offending device and promptly shoving it under his other pillow.

It’s five a.m., and if Mabel isn’t calling, it’s not important enough to wake up for.

Dipper gets exactly thirty two and a half more minutes of sleep before a steady knock greets him. The bubbly rhythm belongs to one person alone, and he groans.

“Mabel no.”

She can’t hear his whisper, of course, so he crawls out of bed. He pulls a soft blanket around his shoulders before opening the door, because its cold, and he wants Mabel to understand what she’s keeping him from.

He opens the door with a small yawn, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. He squeaks in alarm when he looks up at Bill, who is most certainly not his sister, and wraps the blanket tighter around himself.

Mabel pokes her head around the tall blonde, a maniacal grin stretching across her face. It’s pure evil how pleased she looks.

“Morning, bro-bro! Big, big, big day ahead!”

“You sound like Effie Trinket.” Dipper pouts, but opens his door wider to let the two in.

Bill holds out a to-go cup that matches his own, steam curling from the lid. His voice is much softer than Mabel’s when he speaks. “Sorry, cutie.Your sister is both very persuasive and determined, I had no choice.”

Dipper takes the cup, inhaling the sweet scent of the vanilla latte. He blinks sleepily in shock. Had Bill remembered what coffee he liked?

He mentally shrugs, taking a small sip. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Bill grins at him, “Aw, you’re just too cute in the morning, so soft.”

Bill winks at him before following Mabel into the living room, leaving Dipper to stand by the door with pink cheeks and a sleep-addled brain.

It takes a minute, but he closes the door before heading into the living room after his sister and Bill, still unaware what could possibly call for such an early rising.

He leans against the wall into the living room as he watches his sister pull various items out of her enormous bag.

Bill stands by the glass wall on the other side of the room, bathed in the rose blush light of sunrise. He takes a slow sip of his coffee, face shrouded by a cloud of steam for a second.

Mabel sits on the ground, head bouncing between the two like she’s watching a tennis match, and Dipper scowls at her, shaking his head.

She shrugs, but her grin tells Dipper that she’ll bring it up later.

“So why have we all gathered together this glorious morning?”

Dipper’s sarcasm is dampened by the sleep in his voice, but Mabel rolls her eyes anyways.

“Because you’re a lost cause, and without my help you’d crash and burn.”

Dipper turns to Bill with a questioning look, trying his hardest not to look like a kicked puppy. He most likely fails, because a smirk tugs at Bill’s lips.

“Can you explain, please?” Dipper asks without whining. Well, perhaps a bit. It’s not even six in the morning, it’s a bit warranted.

Mabel sighs, “Dipper, how much do you know about the modeling industry?”

Dipper blinks, fiddling with the blanket slipping down his shoulders. “Well, whatever you’ve told me, I guess?”

Mabel pulls her laptop out of her bag, chuckling. “You listen to me twenty percent of the time, if I’m lucky.”

Dipper splutters at his twin, embarrassed. “That’s not true!”

“Yes it is.”

“You talk very fast.”

Mabel waves him off, ignoring his pouting. “Not the point, brother dear. This fine young man-” Here, she points to Bill. “Has invited you one of the most prestigious parties of this entire year, where countless agents, photographers, models, and business opportunities will be presented to you. As of this exact moment, your knowledge of said people is dismal, to put it kindly.”

Dipper tugs his blanket around himself, “That’s not true. I know plenty about the modeling business.”

“Did you know Bill before today? Can you tell me who Aden Carmen is? Would you book Montello or Tergie to shoot your photos? Who designed the spring line of Blooming Carcass? When-”

“Okay, I get it! I don’t know anything and I’m going to make a complete fool out of myself.”

Mabel is in full business mode, the one she adopts when acting as his manager, but her smile is warm and apologetic.

“I just want you to make a good impression, Dipper. This is a huge break for you, and a good impression with any of these people could mean great things for your future. Besides, you’ve been in the industry for years, you’ll be expected to know this stuff if you want to make this your career. Being pretty will only get you so far.”

Bill steps forward, easing into the loveseat to his right, backlit by the rosy-gold morning. “She’s right, unfortunately. You may be adorable as can be, and endearingly awkward, but those things will only go so far with these people, trust me.”

Dipper sinks into the soft suede cushions, pulling his knees up to his chest. “How can I possibly fix that in a few hours?”

Mabel and Bill grin at each other, and his sister practically bounces in place. “Why do you think we’re here? We’re going to help you become the best model in the world!”

Dipper’s protest of ‘In a few hours?’ melds with Bill’s mumbled ‘I’m right here. The three dissolve into laughter, because it’s six in the morning, and the mood needs to be lightened.

Mabel begins to pull out so many papers, magazines, and folders that Dipper starts to think she’s Mary Poppins or Hermione Granger. With a small mountain of information around her, she begins dutifully typing away at her laptop. She beckons both males closer, and once they’re both situated beside her, knees nearly touching, the agonizing work begins.

…

Dipper flops onto his back with a groan, “If I learn one more fact about Tabitha Markel or one more modeling technique I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

Bill’s face appears over him, teeth glinting in the bright sunlight pouring through the room. Dipper is so preoccupied with comparing him to a golden god that he hardly registers what he says.

“What?”

Bill raises an eyebrow. “I said don’t do that, you’re too cute, and we’d have waisted hours of our time.”

Dipper dodges the compliment and Mabel’s pointed stare. “See why it’s an issue? My brain is officially fried. You'll be bringing a vegetable to the party.”

Bill shrugs, smiling. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing most of them are vegetarians, because they’re going to eat you alive.”

Mabel slaps Bill upside the head as Dipper looks on in horror.

Bill raises his hands, but breaks into loud peals of laughter. “Sorry Mabel, I’m only kidding. Mostly.”

The look she levels him with sobbers his laughter. “I’m entrusting you with my poor, fragile brother, so if anything happens to him, I will be holding you personally responsible, mister.”

Dipper begins to protest that he isn’t fragile, but Bill pulls him to his side.

“Dear Mason has never been in safer hands.”

Said hands are like scorching fire on Dipper’s skin, far too warm and far too close.

“Is that a promise?”

“Absolutely, Miss Star.”

Mabel tilts her head at the nickname. “What’s that for?”

Bill’s finger’s are ghosting up and down Dipper’s side, but the blonde doesn’t even seem aware of the movements as he replies. “Everyone has a nickname in my mind. You’re Shooting Star. That’s what your personality told me. Small, fast moving, and ready to light up the earth with their entrance.”

Mabel laughs, but Dipper frowns at the metaphor. “Falling stars are hunks of rock, not actual stars, but even if they were, wouldn’t that mean they were dying?”

Both turn to him, and he curls further into Bill’s side at the shock on their faces.

Mabel shakes her head. “You're an irredeemable nerd, and the biggest pessimist, you buzzkill!”

He dodges the pillow she tosses at him, laughing.

Bill ruffles his hair, fingers lingering in the curls longer than they need to. “Mason is just jealous that I haven’t given him one yet.”

Dipper rolls his eyes, about to protest, but Mabel cuts him off. “That’s not important! You need to go get ready right now!”

Mabel is pulling him off of the floor and pushing him into the bathroom before he can react. She instructs him to take a shower and meet her in his room when he’s done. The sheer excitement in her voice is terrifying, but he complies.

He goes through his normal routine in the shower as well as his skincare routine once finished, before meeting Mabel in his room. 

He’s towel-drying his hair, matching towel around his hips, when he notices Bill lounging on his bed. He and Mabel stop talking the moment Dipper walks in, and he shuffles nervously.

“Pine Tree.”

Bill’s voice cuts through the awkward tension, low and amused.

Dipper stops drying his hair to stare at him like he’s gone crazy. “Excuse me?”

Bill points to Dipper’s hip, where a small black pine tree rest in the dip of his hip bone. “Your tattoo. That’s your nickname now, it’s settled.” 

Dipper is about to explain just how stupid the nickname is when Mabel yanks him towards her. “No time for that now! I have to get you party ready in an hour, and I need to start right away!”

She shoves Bill off the bed, shooing him out the door while mumbling ‘Out, out,out.’ under her breath.

She whirls around when the door is closed, pointing to the clothes on the bed. “You. Get dressed. Now.”

Dipper picks up the clothes without looking at them, heading into his closet as he shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re making me get in the closet again.”

He shuts the door with a laugh before the pillow can hit him.

Once he actually looks at the outfit in his hands, he decides he’s not going to the party anymore, because he’ll die before he gets there.

Dipper shouts through the door at his sister. “Mabel, there’s no way I’m wearing this around in public.”

Mabel’s voice holds no remorse, “Yes you are, because I said so. Female models have to be uncomfortable, so do you.”

Dipper grumbles before starting to pull the pants on. They’re skin-tight and pale pink, and hang dangerously low on his hips. As if that weren’t enough, the white top is cropped, bareing more of his midriff than he’s comfortable with. He hates to admit that the design is stunning. It cuts across his shoulders, beneath his collarbones, before flaring out into sleeves that resemble angel wings. 

Dipper steps out of the closet with his arms across his stomach, trying to glare at his sister so she understands just how much he is not on board with this idea. She hardly even glances at him as he pouts, focused on her work.

She pulls out a shimmering lotion, and by the time she finishes, Dipper glimmers like some ethereal creature. She goes for the same look with his face, applying light amounts of highlight to the high points of his face.

Much to his dismay, she pinches his cheeks, enhancing the pink flush on his face, and he bats her hands away with a scowl.

“Mabel, that hurts.”

She shrugs, “Beauty is pain, suck it up.”

His hair has mostly dried by now, and she smooths his curls with a vanilla-scented mousse. She finally finishes her poking and prodding with a golden necklace. It's a thin delicate chain, but glimmers brightly, which seems to be Mabel’s goal. Dazzle them with his appearance, because his personality will probably be lackluster at best.

She steps back, nodding to herself as she smiles. “All done, and with time to spare!”

Dipper slips his phone into his back pocket along with his wallet and chapstick. “Am I free to leave, your highness?”

Mabel laughs, opening the door. “You are free, my child.”

With the layout of his house, all open rooms and minimal walls, he can see Bill the second he steps out of his room. The bonde is lounging on the grey couch, clearly having gotten ready when Dipper was being held hostage.

Bil’s jeans are darker than night, with small triangles embroidered down the side in gold thread. His shirt is reminiscent of a normal tee shirt, but the charcoal silk is sheer. Dipper would be proud that his brain tells him it’s most likely voile, something he had learned earlier today, but trying to keep his eyes off of Bill is proving to be a full-time job.

Golden eyes meet his, accentuated by smudged lines of khol. Bill’s eyes widen, mouth parting for a second.

“Wow, Pine Tree.”

Dipper fiddles with his trailing sleeves. “Good wow?”

Bill chuckles darkly. “Forget the other’s eating you alive,  _ I’m _ going to.”

Dipper blinks slowly, trying to understand if that was a yes or no. “Uh, okay. Should we leave now?”

Bill rises from the couch, all rippling muscle and smokey eyes. “If I can’t have you to myself, I suppose that’s the next course of action.”

Mabel choses that moment to poke her head out of the bedroom. “Hands to yourselves, Bill no drinking because you’re driving, and Dipper?”

Dipper tilts his head at his sister, questioning.

“Have fun.”

She smiles at him, beaming sunshine, before ducking back into his room. He watches her retreat with a soft smile, shaking his head.

Warmth seeps into his skin, and he knows Bill is behind him. “It’s kind of creepy to sneak up on people.”

“Is it really sneaking if you know I’m here?”

Bill’s voice is teasing, and Dipper’s smile grows slightly. “Yep.”

He turns around, breath catching in his throat at Bill’s proximity.

Bill chuckles, nearly a growl. “Come on, cutie, I’m driving.”

Dipper follows him out the door in a nervous haze. Maybe he notices the way Bill’s jeans hug his legs perfectly, but he’d never admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flips back and forth between America's Next Top Model and Gravity Falls*  
No, but seriously, any and all of modeling knowledge comes from that show, so if anything is wrong, I'm blaming Tyra Banks (not really though, bc she could she on me and I'd let her)


	5. V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill takes Dipper to Tad Strange's party, where Tad quickly dismisses the young model

Dipper is more than a little hesitant of Bill’s shiny sports car.

It sits in the parking lot like a panther, equally as black. Dipper notices as they walk closer that the paint is two-toned, shifting to a subtle iridescent gold in the waning light of the afternoon. It matches the golden rims perfectly.

Bill eases open the passenger door and Dipper pauses, breathing in sharply.

“You drive safely, right?”

Bill tilts his head, but is uncharacteristically serious. “I’m always a safe driver, but I’ll be doubly so if you’d like.”

Dipper relaxes his shoulders with a shaky laugh. “Yes, please.”

He climbs into the car, melting into the cool leather. Bills shoots him one last glance before closing the door gently.

Bill walks around to the other side, sliding into the seat. The engine starts with a rumbling purr, and Bill glances at Dipper for a second. “You okay, angel?

Dipper nods, but he’s sure his face is a bit pale. “I’ll be fine, it’s just been a while since I’ve been in the front seat of a car.”

Bill senses the tension and tries for a light-hearted tone. “Is that because you’re always chauffeured around, princess?”

Dipper smiles weakly. “Sure.”

Bill’s hand flutters against the wheel like he wants to reach out to the younger boy, but he keeps it in place.

“Seriously, sugar, are you okay?”

Dipper shrugs, gaze fixated on his lap. “I don’t have the best history with cars.”

Bill, thankfully, doesn’t push for an explanation, instead filling the silence with soft music from the radio and random facts about the people attending the party.

They aren’t as informative as Mabel’s, but the fact that Caden Holster has the ‘world’s flattest ass’ does wonders to brightens Dipper’s mood.

He’s giggling at some other ridiculous remark from Bill when the car comes to a stop. Dipper peers out the window in shock, surprised by how quickly the drive went by.

“Here we are, doll. You ready?”

Dipper hums in acknowledgment. “Yeah, I think so. This place is huge.”

Bill laughs softly, but the smirk ruins the genuinity. “It’s Tad Strange, cutie, what were you expecting?”

Dipper pouts and pushes Bill’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean, some of us aren’t used to mega rich people.”

Bill snorts, “Aren’t you mega rich?”

Dipper blushes, shifting in the leather seat. “It’s not really my money, so no. Shouldn’t we go inside?”

Bill stares at him for a moment longer before nodding. “Stay here, Pine Tree.”

Dipper watches as he darts around to the other side to open his door, and blushes when he realises.

“I can get my own door, you know.” He mumbles, much to Bill’s amusement.

“I know you can, sugar, I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

Dipper giggles, “You told me earlier that you thought my ass looked fantastic in my pajama shorts.”

Bill grins at him, glinting tiger teeth. “Oh, I meant it. You were so cute in those little ruffled shorts. And the light yellow looked so good with your-”

“Shut up!” Dipper shoves him as they finally reach the door of the house.

They’re both laughing as the door opens, greeted by a tall man in a dark suit. His hair is equally dark, styled in sharp curls atop his head like a Greek god. With the way his dark eyes flash a deep violet, he resembles Dipper’s idea of Dionysus. The glass of wine held delicately in his left hand only adds to the imagery.

Bill stares at the male for a second before each man grins, pulling the other in for a rough hug.

“Tad, it’s been a while.”

Tad’s grin is small, but his eyes sparkle. “Too long, old friend. Please come in.”

The group moves past the door as it falls shut behind them.

Bill pulls Dipper in front of him, warm hands ghosting over his hips as he presents him to Tad. “This little angel is Mason Pines.”

Tad eyes are like cold fire when they land on Dipper, and the smaller boy flinches back.

“Um, Hello Mr. Strange, it’s nice to meet you. Your house is lovely.”

Tad tilts his head at him before chancing a glance at Bill. “Thank you, Mason. I’m glad you like my house, please feel welcome to treat it as our own tonight.”

His tone is slightly dismissive, and he quickly returns to talking to Bill. The two begin to walk off, already deep in conversation, but Bill reaches back to tug at Dipper’s hand.

Dipper can’t help the disappointment that pierces his heart, but tries to mask it as he trails after Bill, admiring the house as they go.

The main living space is some architectural hybrid of ancient Greece and contemporary. The walls are all painted eggshell white, blending seamlessly with the shining marble floor. The largest room they stop in, where the heart of the party is, is a spacious rotunda complete with columns along the perimeter. The domed ceiling is art in and of itself, inlaid with monochrome murals.

The room has been transformed into a high-class club. The lights have been dimmed, and throw off a hazy purple glow that dances across everyone. Music filters around the room in silken piano notes, and Dipper is trying so hard to place to name of the song that he nearly runs into Bill when he stops.

The two are still lost in their own world when Dipper’s eyes land on the large painting just behind them. The gasp he lets out is involuntary.

He whispers the artist name much louder than he had expected, and slaps his hand over his mouth.

Tad turns to his, an odd emotion playing in his eyes. “You know of them?”

Bill snorts, “His loft is full of their art.”

Dipper blushes, but nods in excitement. “They’re my favourite artist, but everyone else thinks they're too morbid.”

Tad turns to the painting, humming. “I suppose so. I find beauty in the darker aspects of life.” He looks back to Dipper, raising an appraising eyebrow. “Bill’s partners hardly ever know anything past their own name.”

Bill scoffs as Dipper tries to stutter out some sort of coherent reply.

“I- we’re not- um.”

Tad’s dark eyes flick to their interlocked hands before he smiles. “My apologies for assuming. And I suppose I should also apologise for ignoring you. I don’t often find myself impressed by Bill’s, ehem, companion choices.”

Bill scowls, “My partners are lovely, Tad, you’re just stuck up.”

Tad opens his mouth to reply, but shakes his head. “Nevermind that. Mason, if you’re not with my woefully delusional friend, I must inquire as to why you would suffer his presence?”

His voice is velvet and joking, which aids in putting Dipper at ease. “I didn’t have much choice, honestly.”

Bill barks out a laugh at his equally joking tone. “Oh I see, gang up on Bill. I’ll remember that, Pine Tree.”

Dipper grins up at him shyly before turning back to Tad. “We did a shoot together recently, and Bill is helping me out. He’s quite kind.”

Bill pinches his cheek softly and winks. “Oh, you know just what to say to rile a guy up, Mason.”

Tad raises an eyebrow, “So you’re a model, then?”

Dipper chuckles nervously as he bats Bill’s hand away. “I’m attempting to be one, yes.”

Bill rolls his eyes, leveling his gaze at Tad. “He’s being modest. I’ve never seen anyone with such raw talent. I can only imagine what he could do if someone here got their hands on him.”

Tad hums in thought, taking a sip of his wine as he assesses Dipper. “Have your manager send me your portfolio some time next week. Leave your name with Jessica, she’ll make sure I get it”

Dipper stares open-mouthed at Tad as he nods. “Of course! Thank you, Mr. Strange.”

Tad laughs, “Would it be horribly cliche of me to say ‘Mr. Strange was my father’? Just Tad is fine, Mason.”

Dipper stutters out a thank you as Tad excuses himself to mingle with the other party guest, and Dipper practically collapses into Bill once Tad leaves.

“If I’m dreaming, don’t pinch me.”

Bill’s laugh vibrates against his back. “I am quite dreamy, aren’t I?”

Dipper leans away, swatting at Bill with a giggle. “Your ego is a nightmare.”

Bill grins at him, “Fair enough. Do you want to meet some others?”

Dipper is practically bouncing with happiness, a giddy sort of warmth spreading through his system. “Okay!”

Bill coughs to cover his laugh. “You’re acting like Shooting Star, cutie.”

Dipper beams up at him, cheeks flushing, and Bill blinks a bit before leading him across the room.

Dipper is waltzed around the room in a daze, dazzled by some of the most beautiful people he’s ever met. He’s guessing it’s Bill's presence that makes them gush over him, fawning over how cute he is or how talented his sister is. It’s Bill’s reassuring presence that keeps him steady, hand held against his back like a warm anchor. 

The pair leave the party some time after midnight, Dipper a mess of pink cheeks and giggles, phone contacts full of new connections and mind swirling.

Bill opens the passenger door with a flourish, resting his arms across the top as Dipper climbs in. He grins down at the brunette as he yawns. “Have fun, angel?”

Dipper nods, a sleepy smile gracing his features. “Tons, thank you. Everyone was so nice.”

Bill’s laugh is quiet in the dark, “Who could be unkind to you, cutie.”

Dipper snorts, waving his hand at Bill. “Lots of people, lots and lots.”

Bill closes the door, laughter rumbling in his chest at Dipper’s tired slurring.

They drive back through the city in silence, and Bill looks over a few minutes in to see Dipper has fallen asleep, curled up in the seat, neon lights flickering blue and red across his skin. Bill has to drag his eyes away from the boy to look at the road, chest fluttering at the soft breathing beside him.

Mabel greets him at the door, smiling when she sees Dipper curled up in Bill’s arms, sleeping peacefully.

“Thank you for taking care of him.”

Bill recalls Dipper’s words from earlier, and whispers them. “I didn’t have much choice, honestly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hesitant to upload this, because I don't have another chapter written, but it's been too long, and I'm hoping you all will bully me into writing more. I've been obsessed with writing Golden God recently, and things are really coming together, so I'm emotional over my boys(,:  
Anyways, ily, thank you, and have a good day/night!


End file.
